


Elixir

by Changeling_Serenade



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Blood, Blood Brother type thing, Blood Drinking, Ceremonial bloodletting, Multi, Troll Ceremonies, nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Changeling_Serenade/pseuds/Changeling_Serenade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Vriska who approaches first, which is a complete disregard for tradition. No one, however, speaks a word against it, because to follow tradition at this point would be a mockery to their cause. </p><p> </p><p>  <em>Mixed together like this, muddied together into a colorless mosaic, it just tastes of blood. It is not particularly salty like seadwellers, nor does it tang of high iron concentration like lowbloods, nor the hormones of highbloods. It just tastes of blood. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Elixir

It is Vriska who approaches first. 

This is a complete disregard of tradition: One is meant to start at the bottom of the spectrum and work their way up. No one, however, not even Equius, speaks a word against it. To follow tradition at this point would be a mockery of their cause. 

Vriska holds a thin, wiry wrist, strong from sweeps if sword play, above the lip of the goblet. She gives Feferi a wild, somewhat manic smile, and flickering light of the candles play off her glasses. 

“I’ll give you all the luck I can spare.” She says, and though the tone is flippant she is as sincere as she has ever been. “And of course I have all the luck, so there’s plenty to go around!” She drags out the ‘e’ in plenty, just as she had done when they were wigglers. 

Feferi slowly nods her approval. Vriska twirls the dagger in her right hand- ever the show women- and drags the blade over the heel of her left. 

A small drizzle of cerulean blood falls into the goblet, coating the bottom. Vriska slips back from the dais like a spider in its web. 

Kanaya steps up next, head held high and regal with the utmost dignity and grace (At times like these, Feferi thinks that Kanaya would make a better princess then herself). She bows ever so slightly. When she speaks, her voice is even. 

“I give you all of my knowledge of birth and death.” She says, carefully articulating every word. “As well as all I know of what the sun hides. You will always have a Mother Grub so long as I’m around.”

There is a flash of silver, and jade green joins the cerulean in the cup. 

Gamzee saunters forward, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched in. “’Messiahs are on your side so long as I am, fishsis.” He shrugs. “My sign has some swaying power with the subjugglators. And,” his smile turns vacant and haunting. “you can have my Rage, too.”

The room is completely still and silent as he cuts his wrist, perhaps deeper then strictly necessary, and adds his blood to the mix. 

Equius takes Gamzee’s place. He places a clenched fist over his heart and bows, much lower then Kanaya had, before speaking. 

“My every strength is yours, heiress.” Is his simple statement before slicing into his hand without so much as a flinch. 

Nepeta follows her Moirail, a breath of fresh air with a spring in her step. She smiles at Feferi. 

“I haven’t really got much!” She ignores Equius’s protests behind her. “But you’ve got all the hunting skills I have! And what’s left of my Ancestors book, even though I’m pretty sure I’d still give you that even if you didn’t let me help.” 

Her olive green mixes seamlessly with the other colors before she retreats to Equius’s side. 

There is a long second where no one does anything before Tavros takes his turn. He is hesitant in his movements, waiting for someone to tell him to go back where he came from. Of course, no one does. He holds his own wrist steady over the goblet. 

“You have the beasts of Alternia on your side as long as you have me.” His voice does shake a little, but not so much as it might have in sweeps past. “And I can give you my, uh, Ancestors lance. And my wings.” Said appendences moved slightly as he spoke. “And that’s all.” He finishes, before he too cut his hand and added his blood. 

Eridan is after him, and he offers Feferi a rather defeated smile. “You had me at the first Glub, Fef.” The smile quickly morphs into a rather arrogant smirk. “And not one of you knows strategy like I do.” Rich violet falls over Tavros’s brown and sinks. 

(Feferi wonders, sometimes, if they had done wrong by each other, that maybe if they had tried to compromise or something they could have fixed whatever it was they had. Then she thinks of how bad they were for each other, how miserable they made each other in the long run, and thinks that maybe the distance time put between them is for the best.)

Terezi is after him in a flurry of color. Her grin stretches ear to ear as she leans on her cane. 

“I know every law this screwed-up system has to offer.” Her smile, if possible, widens. “And every loophole that goes with it.” 

And, with a dagger flourish even more impressive then Vriska’s, she slices her hand open, adds her share and backs away. 

Aradia moves then, already pressing a blade to her palm and collecting blood there. 

“The dead of all who have been slaughtered since She took the throne are behind you, and so am I!” She carefully pours the rust-red liquid from her hands to the cup. 

Sollux switches places with her, his eyes glowing a little in the dim room. He grins at Feferi. 

“Does it need saying, FF? You’ve got the weapon arsenal that is my head, we know roughly if one of us is going to die horribly, all the computer skills you need, and enough power to run a flag ship.” Everyone flinches at that, but no one comments. Because, yes, it was in bad taste, but it would have been _his_ fate, not any of theirs. If he wants to make light of it, that was his choice. 

“…All yours.” His voice lowers a little. “Always yours.” 

He cuts into a very thin arm almost reverently and lets his blood join the others. 

And finally, Karkat shoves his way forward from where he has been leaning against the wall. He pauses, looked at the goblet, sighs. 

“I can give you my face.” He says, addressing the floor. “And my blood, and my Ancestors legacy. And my words, I guess. I’ve got a lot of those.” He grimaces and places the blade across the back of his hand. “Let’s hope to whatever fucking god is out there that it’s enough.” 

He only stutters a fraction of a second before slicing through his skin and letting the too-bright red run into the goblet. He walks back to Gamzee, who laces their fingers together. 

Then Feferi herself picks up the cup, nicks her skin and lets royal Fuchsia roll down her wrist into it. 

“And I give myself.” She says, voice hushed. “I give my inheritance. I give a promise that I’ll try to make things better.” 

She looks at the glowing eyes of the tolls around her- her friends, her quadrants, her fellow rebels. One from every caste, practically, the descendants of those who tried and failed to change history. And her, whose Ancestor did change history but not for the better. 

“Alright then!” She smiles brightly. “To the future!” She lifts the goblet in a sort of toast, then brings it to her lips and takes a sip. 

Mixed together like this, muddied together into a colorless mosaic, it just tastes of blood. It is not particularly salty like seadwellers, nor does it tang of high iron concentration like lowbloods, nor the hormones of highbloods. It just tastes of blood. 

Feferi swallows, inhales deeply. Then she passes the goblet to the nearest person to her left, who happens to be Eridan. He too takes a sip, then passes to Araida, who sips and passes it to Terezi, who sips and passes it to Sollox, who passes it to Vriska who passes it to Nepeta who passes it to Tavros who passes it to Equius who passes it to Kanaya who passes it to Gamzee who passes it to Karkat. By the time it gets to Karkat, all the blood has been emptied. 

They have just completed the oldest and most sacred of all Alterinan rituals. They have just completed a blood bind, a sworn oath. A part of every one of them ran through all the others. 

They were honestly, truly, in this mess together now, for better or for worse. 

“…Well then.” Karkat cracks his knuckles. “No use sitting around playing with our nooks. We’ve got an empire to take down.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so. I have no idea where this came from. I have always wanted to explore Troll culture some more, and that somehow turned into this. 
> 
> Also, please note I am in no way trying to make light of self harm in any way. This is meant to be more of a religious ceremony then anything.


End file.
